Blaise stood outside the fence gate of the address he had been given. It had taken the calling in of one of his long-held favors over a former housemate, a more sizeable bribe to a ministry official than he would have liked, and no small amount of time to acquire the information. His reasons for seeking out the address were urgent, and the delay had wasted more than a week.
He sized up the house thoroughly. Even though the quaint cottage looked thoroughly muggle from where he was standing, he could feel the strong press of the wards assessing him the closer he got to the low stone wall that encircled the property. The pressure against his skin and his tightly held magic was uncomfortable, but it did not feel dangerous yet, and it certainly wasn’t enough to deter him from opening the gate.
The gate opened without a creak, and the magic hummed more potently against his skin as he took a step forward onto the worn stone pathway. When the wards didn’t immediately harm or eject him from the property, he released the infinitesimal tension in his shoulders to glide forward with his normal unhurried pace. Blaise temporarily loosened the tight hold he had on his magic to let it gather around him and release some of the tension that had built both from the external push of foreign magic against him and the contentious situation he was here to discuss. He rolled his shoulders as the intense magic of the wards pounced and swirled playfully in invisible currents around the bit of his magic that he’d let out.
There were several dozen paces up the stone pathway in order to reach the front door. The pathway was bounded on both sides by a fragrant mix of herbs and flowers. In the late evening light, Blaise noted that while the garden was well tended, it was slightly more functional than aesthetic, considering that he recognized all the plants in the garden as useful ingredients for dozens of the most common healing and household potions.
Now that he was closer to the house, he could see that the ivy growing on the stone cottage had five leaves, making it a variety of Virginia Creeper, which was a key component in a half dozen different antidotes. By the time Blaise had reached the steps leading up to the door it was unceremoniously flung open with the cottage’s mistress standing in the doorway with her wand in hand. Hastily, he drew his magic back under his skin. It was quite rude as an adult to let your magic free on someone else’s property, particularly their home, without permission and he didn’t want to start this encounter off on the wrong foot.
The young woman’s gaze darted over him and her brow raised nearly all the way to her hairline. “Signore Zabini, this is a surprise,” she said crisply.
He gave her a half smile. “Ah, good, I wasn’t sure if you would recognize me.”
Though it was clear that she recognized him, her ready stance didn’t drop at his confirmation, which was understandable considering her history with his former Hogwarts house, but not ideal for his intentions today.
“You were prodigiously good during 6th year potions on the section of crafting antidotes,” she stated matter-of-factly.
He blinked, unsure if that was an insult in reference to his family life or a compliment, because everything he knew about her indicated that she valued intelligence. He decided to ignore it and gave her a slight bow. “I apologize for showing up unannounced. I need to speak with you and it’s quite urgent. May I come in, Ms. Granger?” he asked, easy charm dripping from his lightly accented voice.
She frowned down at him and answered, “I don’t know that you’ve ever spoken more than a dozen words to me before today. I’m having difficulty coming up with some reason that someone would come here and impersonate you, so I think you better come in.”
As he crossed the threshold of her house, Blaise shivered as magic that felt like water poured over his head and reached all the way down to his feet. He glanced down at his clothes and ran a hand through his hair. No part of his skin or clothing was wet.
“It removes coercive and mind-altering magics, including confoundments, ingested love potions, and the imperious,” Granger reassured in response to his reaction.
He hummed thoughtfully and asked. “Like Thief’s Downfall?”
She nodded. “It’s similar, but it does not strip any other potions or enchantments.”
“Why not just use Thief’s Downfall and strip all potions and enchantments?”
She rolled her eyes, but there was a slight grin on her lips. “The primary use of Thief’s Downfall is to remove all concealments. I don’t need any of my guests stripped of their use of cosmetic charms, and I occasionally receive clients who come under some form of disillusionment or glamour for their safety. I’m far more concerned that my guests come here of their own volition,” she said in a tone of voice that was smooth and practiced. He suspected that she’d explained her reasoning on this more than once.
He turned his head back toward the door. “It felt like a ward rather than a potion.”
“That’s because it was,” she answered slowly, her lips downturned slightly.
That was fascinating. Blaise had never heard of a ward that could do that, and he had been in dozens of old and highly warded estates. He even owned a few. It was a little strange that Granger had her property warded so well, but very impressive at the same time. Perhaps it was just leftover paranoia from the war, or perhaps it was just something obscure she’d found and wanted to try out. He shouldn’t expect any less from the brightest witch of their age.
Granger sighed, the sound loud in the peaceful atmosphere of her country cottage. “A lot of people still want to hurt me. There are still occasional attempts on my life,” she said tiredly, answering a question he hadn’t known how to ask politely.
He met her gaze and smiled sympathetically. “I assure you, I was only admiring the craftsmanship and wondering if, regardless of how our conversation goes today, you might give me the contact information of your ward designer.”
The corners of her mouth tightened, and her hand briefly flexed on her wand in response to his words, though he was unsure of the reason. Had he managed to offend her somehow already?
“I will consider it. Now may I offer you tea?” she said after a long moment of silence.
He tucked his hands into his trouser pockets and agreed, reminding himself that she had no reason to hex or poison him at the moment. She guided him into a sitting room where sunlight from the large windows brought out the warm tones in the wooden coffee table and finely upholstered seating.
Blaise waited for her to sit and then took the seat across from her. Wordlessly, she floated a tea tray over and poured for him. She watched him over the rim of her teacup as she took her first sip. He brought his cup to his mouth and tasted the offered tea. Judging by its delicate floral notes and light flavor, it was a Darjeeling tea and a good quality one at that. Hermione Granger might serve excellent tea with the manners of any high society witch, but she was no Slytherin and her emotions were not subtle. He took several long sips and watched as the frustration and confusion built in his former classmate across from him. The Slytherin in him liked her reaction, though he knew that today, it wouldn’t be prudent to rile the Gryffindor witch up.
He let the leaves settle in the cup and discreetly glanced down at the pattern. There were three distinct symbols in the cup. He suppressed a grin of relief, aside from the triangle in the cup that most often symbolized something unexpected happening, the other two symbols, an arch and a ring at the bottom of the cup, were strongly indicative of his success.
Finally, her impatience getting the better of her, Granger set her cup down on its saucer and her whiskey eyes met his gaze directly. “Now, Signore Zabini, what brings you to my personal residence this evening?”
While he couldn’t see her wand in hand, her posture was still stiff with what he could only imagine was suspicion and unease. He raised his empty hands and spoke soothingly, “I mean you no harm, Ms. Granger.”
She nodded, but her eyes remained narrowed and her mouth set in a serious line. “I know. The wards wouldn’t have let you get to the door if you had. However, just because you mean me no physical harm doesn’t mean that you don’t want something from me or that your reasons for being here are pleasant.”
He suppressed the brow he wanted to raise. He really did hope she would give him the name of her warder. Intent-based wards were nearly a work of art, so complicated only a Master Ward-smith could design. “How much do you keep track of politics these days?” he asked as he rested his arms on his thighs and leaned forward slightly, in a relaxed posture designed to put her more at ease.
Her shoulders seemed to slump a bit in response to his more casual posture. She visibly winced and answered, “Not much lately. Normally, I’m better at it, but I’ve been abroad for the last few months.”
That explained why he hadn’t seen her name or picture splashed across the papers recently and why his normal sources of information couldn’t give him an event she was scheduled or even rumored to be attending. He would have much preferred to meet her in public first to renew her acquaintanceship, then to startle her at her home and start the conversation with her already on edge, especially when he hadn’t been sure she would even remember him from school.
“The Wizengamot is planning to pass a marriage law,” he stated bluntly, knowing that she would likely appreciate that approach rather than him obfuscating about the matter.
Her eyes instantly widened, and she sat up straight in her chair as she asked, “What? I’ve not heard anything about that. How sure are you?”
He grimaced. “The Wizengamot have been having a number of special, secret closed sessions, but I have a cousin who clerks for one of the members. According to him, it will pass within a few weeks, perhaps a month, at the latest.”
She slumped into the damask fabric of her settee and pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you’re trying to stop the law, I’m unsure why you would have come to me. I haven’t worked with the ministry since directly after the war five years ago. At this point, I’m sure that you have better contacts than I do. Unless you need someone to speak to the minister or someone famous to speak out against it in an interview to the press, I’m unsure how I can help you.”
He gave a little shake of his head. “That’s not why I’m here. I don’t think there’s any stopping the law at this point,” he scoffed.
She froze and then let out a long audible exhale before asking, “Then why are you here?”
He sat back in the wingback chair he was occupying, discreetly wiping his palms on his slacks in the process. “The law will require witches to pick between the options that the ministry gives them unless they already have an acceptable betrothal contract filed with the ministry prior to the law being passed. The ministry will honor previous contracts if they are between mixed blood statuses and the parties agree to marry within a year,” he explained.
Granger folded her hands in her lap, and her shrewd eyes bore into him. “I see, and are you here for yourself or on behalf of someone else?” she questioned, her tone sharp with no small amount of anger.
“I’m here for myself,” he stated. Then he wrinkled his nose and continued, “I would never be so crass as to propose on someone else’s behalf.”
She gave a delicate snort and picked her teacup back up to sip it. “Please explain to me why I ought to choose you, a virtual stranger, instead of one of the ministry’s options and why you are specifically on my doorstep rather than speaking to a witch you are better acquainted with.”
He paused to gather his argument, but she continued before he could say anything, “And I suggest you make your case swiftly.”
He wet his lips and began, “The ministry is only giving witches three options, and while my source indicated that they are supposed to be based on compatibility, I think that, as with anything related to the ministry, the results will be altered by bribes. If that’s the case, then you specifically would certainly be sold to the highest bidder.”
Her face drained of color. Good, she understood the implication that many of those men could or would be dangerous to her personally.
He continued, watching her closely, “I believe that you would find your list of choices unpalatable. I don’t know for certain who would end up on your list Ms. Granger, but I suspect that Malfoy and Rowle would be there, probably along with someone so unsuitable that you would have to pick between the first two options.”
“What makes you so sure those two would end up on my list? Malfoy hates me and Rowle was a Death Eater,” she asked through bloodless lips.
Blaise just stared for a moment. “Ms. Granger, Thorfinn Rowle was let off with only fines, because most of his crimes were property damage. However, he is obsessed with you and has been since our third year of school,” he said with a hint of incredulity. Rowle’s fascination during his last two years of school hadn’t been a secret to anyone, except apparently, to the witch in question. He cleared his throat. “As for Malfoy, his intentions would likely be two-fold. The first being his sense of elitism; if he can’t have a Sacred 28 princess, then he would want the most influential and powerful witch available. I believe that he also feels indebted to you for speaking at his trial after the war and would feel honor-bound to protect you because your testimony directly kept him out of an Azkaban sentence.”
“Harry testified too,” she muttered petulantly, and then she scrunched up her nose. “So, Malfoy’s likely to be my best bet out of the Ministry options. I wonder which other disastrous choice the ministry would choose.” She sighed and then continued, clearly not expecting an answer to that query, “Why do you think you would be a better option than fu-,” she paused, clearly remembering that he was friendly with the other wizard, as she searched for polite phrasing, “a wizard who feels compelled to keep me safe?”
The sentence looked painful for her to say. He coughed lightly to disguise his laugh. “To start with, despite being from rival houses, I’ve always respected your abilities as a witch. I’ve never been a Death Eater, nor does my family agree with or support those beliefs. While it is true that my family is technically pureblood, we wouldn’t pass the strictest of standards here in the British Isles as we’ve often welcomed exceptional witches and wizards of varying blood statuses. We haven’t had a muggleborn in several generations, but it has less to do with prejudice and more to do with previous generations attempting to amass political power here after the economy in Italy was decimated in the 20s and 30s, and unfortunately, the wizarding community in the Isles is highly insular.”
She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with interest, and opened her mouth, but he hurried to continue, knowing that if they got distracted by her, undoubtedly long list of questions, he’d never manage to get them back on track. “I’m not interested in you for the prestige of your name, and if you are worried about your safety, as you mentioned a few minutes ago, then I have more than enough resources to help protect you.”
He took in a calming breath and stated seriously, “I would not demand anything from you aside from fidelity. You may continue working or not. You can choose whether we live together or separately. I won’t require you to make any society appearances that you do not wish to. Marrying me would keep you safe from the ministry law and any of the vultures waiting to bribe them for your hand.” He wet his lips and slyly added, “In addition, I acquired a significant portion of the newspaper a few years ago, and as my wife, you could put a stop to their frivolous articles about you.”
Blaise left out their magical compatibility. How his magic practically sang when it collided with hers. It wasn’t something people spoke about except with family. Besides, he wasn’t sure he was more compatible with her than any of her other possible choices. He’d never felt another witch’s magic that was as compatible with his, but he didn’t know if that was the case for her. He certainly wasn’t going to bring it up in case her other options were better, or she didn’t know about the topic. He didn’t make bets or gamble with only half the necessary knowledge.
Her face went blank, the emotion wiped from her face so quickly that he wasn’t sure that her previous reactions during this conversation weren’t calculated. He resisted the urge to fidget while she processed his words.
She met his eyes and asked contemplatively, “And the reason why you aren’t propositioning another witch of your acquaintance?”
He waved his hand dismissively as he said, “I suppose I do require one more thing out of you. I require you not to murder me for my wealth.”
She tilted her head, face still placid, and asked cautiously, “And has that been a concern?”
He smiled tightly and forced himself not to begin tapping his foot. “What do you know about my mother?”
She shrugged, but a hint of puzzlement crept onto her face. “Elenora Zabini? The only thing I know about her is that she’s had a few husbands.”
Blaise pressed his lips together and then admitted, “She’s on her eighth now and no one can prove that she murdered any of her previous husbands, but even I strongly suspect that she has. You are the only woman of my acquaintance that I would trust as my wife. Most of the women I know are ruthless, morally grey at best, and far more concerned about their wealth and social status than I would be comfortable tying myself to.” Blaise could have kissed her for how shocked and concerned for him she looked now. He supposed now he knew that her comment about him acing the section on antidotes had been a compliment, not a slight against him.
She furrowed her brow and frowned down into her nearly empty teacup. “You have trust issues, and you think marrying a stranger is the solution?”
He snickered into his hand. “You’re Hermione Granger, the Golden Girl, Princess of Gryffindor. And you aren’t quite a stranger, we were schoolmates in the same year. I remember your loyalty to Potter at school, and you dated Weasley, so I know you don’t care about wealth.”
Hermione pursed her lips. She hated those nicknames. Beyond that, though, she couldn’t believe she was considering this insane proposal. However, if Zabini was right about how her Ministry-approved choices would be decided, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he was, she didn’t want to end up married to Malfoy or someone else as equally loathsome. Rowle would be worrisome. He had a terrible temper last she knew of him and was even more liable to set things on fire than she was. That wasn’t even considering who the ministry would choose as the third candidate, probably another wealthy pureblood who had a vendetta against her; one of various Avery cousins, Flints, or Burkes.
Malfoy truly would be the best out of options like those, but she absolutely didn’t want to end up as his wife, living in Malfoy manor, no matter how much in renovations his mother had spent over the last few years. For starters, she didn’t hold with spousal abuse and if she had to marry Malfoy, she wasn’t certain she would be able to refrain from punching him in the face again.
She considered the man in front of her. She had lied a bit or at least withheld the truth; she had noticed Blaise Zabini long before sixth year potions class. He had also been in her Ancient Runes class, too, and while he and his normal Slytherin partner had been quiet during Professor Babbling’s lectures, they were always her competition for the top spot in that class.
He was attractive, with his warm dark skin and bedroom eyes, and she didn’t remember any time when he had been any ruder to her than he had been to his own housemates. And however self-serving it was of him, he had brought her advanced notice of this ridiculous law and was allowing her a real choice.
She let out a deep breath through her mouth. “In the interest of full disclosure, while I’m not interested in your wealth, you are wrong to think that I am some paragon of virtue and not ruthless. Knowing that, if you still wish to enter into a contract with me, then I accept.”
Blaise visibly sagged in what she guessed was relief. “Gratzi, Principessa.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t actually like being referred to as a princess. I think, given the circumstances, that you may call me Hermione.”
He grinned, and the look transformed his face from merely handsome to beautiful. “As you wish, Hermione. Please feel free to call me Blaise. I have the standard contract that my father’s family used, but it is in Italian. The standard English one is practically archaic. Feel free to cast the translation charm so you know there’s no trick, and we will modify the clauses as we see fit. The last page is a list of things I thought you might want but not known to include.”
Hermione fought down a blush. He was much more attractive and charming than anyone she had ever dated before. She waved away his offer of a translation charm. “No need for the charm, I speak both Italian and Spanish fluently as well as conversational French.”
He smiled at her again, “Do you really? That is excellent, as about half of my property and assets are tied up in Italy. I spend a not insignificant amount of time there.”
She nodded to his question as he handed over the contract he’d prepared. She was prepared for outlandish nonsense as she, too, had seen what some of the standard English contracts looked like. Her brows rose higher as she read over the contract and list. “You trust me this much? You would let me keep my own accounts and give me access to yours as well as a very generous allowance?”
He gave a decisive nod as he sat back in the chair to get comfortable. “Yes, I have no interest in controlling my wife financially. I do not mind manipulating the masses or politicians, but I do not want that kind of machinations between my spouse and me.”
She gave him a soft, understanding smile at his answer. That was in line with part of the reason he had come to her rather than someone else. She pointed to a clause a few lines down. “And this clause here. Do you not want children?”
He gave her a slow, heated look from her head down to her toes, before a polite mask fell back over his features, “I would in the future if you were amenable to it, but I won’t mandate it in a contract. Further down the contract, it details how I would provide for them if you chose to carry any child of mine.”
Her eyes dropped back down to the papers quickly in response to his intense gaze. She scrolled to the section in question. “Equal custody, trust vaults, shared medical and schooling responsibility, option of paid childcare,” she muttered. This was much more egalitarian than other contracts she’d seen over the years. Compared to the English wizarding ones this contract was damn near modern.
She bit her lip and considered him carefully, trying to understand him and this offer. She did not doubt that if she went with a ministry offer that those contracts would be mired with archaic ‘wifely duties’. “This contract is heavily weighted in my favor. You truly only want me to vow fidelity and not to murder you in cold blood?”
“Si, principessa.” He winced. “Sorry, habit,” he muttered.
“Is that your preferred pet name for all the women in your life then?” she asked wryly.
“Ah, no. Just you, Hermione,” he said, and in the first sign of discomfort over the topic, a slight flush graced his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.
Outwardly, she rolled her eyes but wondered over his response. “I suppose I’ll try not to take offense then. Now, shall we find a witness or use a ministry one when we file?”
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “You’ll do it, then?” At her solemn nod, he continued, “One witness for each of us would be best then.”
She hummed her agreement, knowing that most contracts of this nature required two witnesses to be valid and then stated, “I don’t have an open floo connection, but you may apparate a guest to the doorstep.”
Considering that his main competition for the witch was one of his friends, there was only one wizard that he trusted to take his side in this matter. Blaise apparated onto Theodore Nott’s stoop, straightened his jacket, and knocked loudly on the enormous old doors of Nott Hall.
After a few moments, the door swung open to reveal a tiny house elf dressed in a striped pantsuit. Upon seeing him at the door, the little elf huffed and said, “Master Theo is in his study.”
Blaise made his way to the familiar room, and Theo looked up from an empty potion vial he was frowning at and fiddling with at his desk. “Evening, Zabini.”
“Evening, Theo,” he said, and a grin broke out on both of their faces. He and Theo had been friends since their first year at Hogwarts, both of them bonding over having a terrible parent who likely murdered their other parent. Admittedly, it wasn’t the healthiest thing to bond over, but it had been nice to have another person his age who understood his fears and his home life without further explanation. In their later school years, that understanding between them had taken on a different form.
Theo put the vial in his hand, off to the side, and glanced over his friend with surprised fondness. “What can I do for you? I assume you aren’t here for a nightcap, considering last time you called my offerings English swill.”
Blaise shook his head. “Nothing like that. I need a half hour or so of your time, your signature as a witness, and your discretion.”
“Sounds intriguing,” Theo said as he grabbed a light overcoat from the back of his chair. Blaise disapparated them from the entrance hall of Nott Hall to Hermione’s cottage.
Theo swayed and shivered on the doorstep as he let out a low, tortured groan and asked, “What are we doing at Hermione Granger’s residence?”
“Have you been here before?” Blaise inquired with surprise, stifling down his response to the sounds Theo had made. During the summer after their sixth year and throughout their seventh year, which had been spent on an Italian property of his rather than at Hogwarts, that kind of sound from Theo would have had Blaise pulling him into the nearest room with a lockable door.
Theo shook his head and closed his eyes as he confessed, “No, never, but her magic has always felt sinfully divine. I would recognize it anywhere.”
Blaise smirked, “You too, then?”
Theo hummed and divulged, “Yes. I’m half convinced Granger was teased by wizards so often in school so they could feel her magic flare against theirs in all her righteous indignation.”
They walked through the doorway, and Granger’s anti-compulsion ward swept over both of them. He smothered his laugh as he watched Theo swallow back another nearly audible reaction.
“Fuck, could have warned me, mate,” Theo muttered, before following him into the next room.
Gran- Hermione was standing by her chair, and Potter was leaning against the fireplace with a glare aimed at them.
“Hello, Nott,” Hermione offered briskly.
“Granger,” he greeted with a nod and sauntered over to the table where the contract was laid out. “Oh, that’s brilliant, Blaise. I wish I’d thought about it before you. Don’t suppose you’d consider two husbands, Granger?” Theo asked, looking up at her with deep blue eyes through long dark brown lashes.
“Is that even legal in the wizarding world?” she asked, brows raised incredulously.
“It is,” he stated matter-of-factly, then furrowed his brows together, “Is that not the case in the muggle world?”
“No, or at least not in most places,” she answered, then swung her gaze toward Blaise and scowled furiously as she stood up from her seat. She crossed her arms as she gritted out, “I thought you were bringing a witness, not a test. I understand you have trust issues, but this is really too much.”
Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not- I didn’t set up a test for you, Hermione. I meant him to be a witness,” he paused for a few moments, searching his feelings on the matter and for his words before he blew out a long breath, “but I would not be opposed to adding a third, only if that third were Theo.”
She glanced between them with an assessing stare, tallied up something in her mind, and gave a regal nod of concession. Whatever she saw in them must have convinced her of his honesty. She glanced over at Theo, who was still leaning over the contract and waiting for her answer. Bluntly, she stated, “I remember you being quieter in school.”
He gave a restrained smile. “Ah, well, my father was a rat bastard who would have murdered me if I’d spoken to anyone he considered below me, and I do mean that literally. Plus, I may have imbibed a bit of felix felicis…”
Potter let out a snort from the fireplace. “Wasn’t even seeing anyone before today and she’s going to get herself two husbands.”
She cocked her head to the side, ignoring Potter’s comments. “And you would consider it lucky to marry me?”
Theo laughed in self-deprecation, “Granger, if I’d ever thought you would have given me half a chance, I would have asked you out years ago, even if I might have gotten murdered for it. I’ve been nursing a crush on you ever since Goyle let it slip that you punched Draco.”
“She what?” Blaise asked as he turned to her and breathed out, “This is true, principessa?”
Hermione had her nose in the air primly, but the embarrassed flush on her face betrayed her. Potter laughed. “That was in our third year, and if either of you has access to a pensive, I would be glad to relive it if you wanted to watch. I used that memory to fuel my patronus in fifth year when Malfoy was being git.”
Theo lit up with glee and declared, “I shall check the vaults.”
“I thought he was your friend,” she uttered with a frown as she squinted at the two of them.
Blaise snickered. “Oh, he is, but even for a Slytherin, he was a poncy git back in school and that’s too good an opportunity to pass up.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Alright, Nott. Why should I add a second husband whom I don’t know when just one will protect me from the law?”
“Well, for one, I have a seat on the Wizengamot that I’m not interested in that you could proxy for,” he stated as he picked up the contract and cast a translation charm. “The Nott library is only rivaled in size by the Malfoy’s library, though while the Malfoy’s is more ostentatious, ours contains more rare and obscure academic tomes on various topics than theirs.”
Blaise watched as Hermione’s countenance went through a gamut of expressions, interest and bafflement the most prevalent emotions.
Theo tutted softly as he read the contract. “Hmm, I would need an heir, since most of the property is entailed, but we could blood adopt if necessary. If you are worried about protection, the Nott wards would be better than Blaise’s. Only someone very deranged or stupid would consider trying to enter Nott Hall uninvited. Although it might take a while to make the property completely safe for you.” He sighed, thinking about all the work that would need to be done on the property to make it safe for a muggleborn wife.
Hermione caught Theo’s gaze, and her golden eyes were sharp with questions.
Theo wrinkled his nose in distaste. “It’s warded with generations of old magic, but as you might have previously noticed, my ancestors were very prejudiced, so there are loads of dangerous warded areas, cursed items, and cursed books, too, of course.”
Hermione perked up in her seat and leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with interest.
Harry groaned from his place by the mantle. “Now you’ve done it.”
Theo looked up at Potter and frowned in puzzlement before meeting the witch’s interested gaze. She was practically on the edge of her seat. “Really? The cursed castle was the best incentive? You’ll agree?” Theo asked, confusion lacing his tone.
Hermione cleared her throat. “Harry, I think that’s enough commentary out of you, and yes, Nott, I agree.”
Blaise watched as Theo grinned brightly at their soon-to-be witch and then shook the parchment in his hand. “Ah, Blaise will have to rewrite the contract to include me since the contract is in Italian,” he said as he handed the contract back to Blaise.
Hermione rolled her eyes, crossed the few steps between them, tapped the parchment with her wand, and watched as Theodore Nott was added as another participant in the contract.
“Useful,” Theo commented, while Blaise was just relieved he wouldn’t need to do extra work or find another clean copy of a contract before it could be signed.
Hermione shrugged and tucked her wand away again. “Yes, but any new amendment specific to you and me, or for you and Blaise, will need to be drafted by hand on that last page.”
“Alright. Between us, specify either a child by water or by blood. You’ll, of course, have access to the Nott vaults. A clause listing you as my proxy to the Nott seat, and I’ll make the estate safe for you,” Theo said, nodding at Blaise to write down his words.
“Don’t bother with cleaning up the estate,” Hermione cut in.
Blaise looked up from the parchment and added, “Aside from the curses, it’s a beautiful estate and one of the safest places in the isles. You may want to see it before you decide you don’t want to live there, Hermione.”
She grinned and there was something mischievous and a little dark in the flash of her teeth. “Who said anything about not living there?”
“Is this a Gryffindor thing?” Blaise asked aloud as Theo appeared too stunned or aghast to say anything.
Potter was shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose in the background.
“Love, I insist. I have no idea how many generations of bigotry have warded the place. It will take a professional or perhaps a team of them years to go through everything,” Nott protested with a hint of desperation. “It’s not even something I’ve managed as the Lord of the estate to make much headway on, despite my best efforts. The entire reason I took felix felicis this evening was so that I wouldn’t blow myself up trying to adjust the wards in one of the galleries.”
Hermione nodded sympathetically and said, “It says a lot about the awful nature of the wards at Nott Hall that, despite what you intended to be doing on a potion that grants you good luck, you are here in my home instead. I suppose I should give Zabini the name of my ward designer now.”
Blaise snapped his gaze up towards her. He absolutely did want to know who was responsible for her ward scheme. It was impeccable from what he could tell.
She grinned deviously at him, “I do my own wards. It’s what I originally assumed you were here for before it was clear that you had no idea that I contract out my curse-breaking and warding services.”
Blaise chuckled. Of course she did. He should have guessed as much. “How very sly of you.”
She shrugged with a small, pleased smile on her lips. “Only a little. But I love old, cursed houses and I take particular delight in obtaining knowledge that pureblood supremacists try to keep from me, so I’d like to look at the estate myself first. If it’s really too much for me, then I promise to hire the team I usually work with on large jobs.”
“Spiteful little witch,” Theo said fondly. To Blaise, he looked rather besotted by the witch and considering the types of witches that Notts usually favored, it was quite possible that he was already enamored with their former classmate.
Potter looked seconds away from laughing.
Hermione glowered and, without glancing behind her said, “Shut up, Harry. I can tell you’re laughing.”
“I would never,” Potter said, the laughter only barely restrained in his voice.
“See that you don’t,” she stated primly. She pulled the parchment to her and finished scratching out the amendments between her and Theo and then handed the quill to Blaise so he could write out any arrangements between him and Theo.
Hermione sighed. “Harry, will you get Ginny? Unfortunately, both witnesses will have to come from me, lest Blaise bring another man, and I somehow end up with an army of husbands.”
“That’s called a harem, principessa,” Blaise said with a smirk as he finished writing the contract and passed it around to be reviewed by the other two.
She scowled, but Theo interrupted whatever lecture she was about to give. “It will be less suspicious and invite less scrutiny if either Blaise or I files this with the lawyers and the ministry tomorrow. Afterward, will you let us take you to dinner so we can discuss the finer details and get to know each other better?”
She blinked, the wind taken out of her sails, and answered slowly as if searching for a hidden trap, “I’d like that as long as we go somewhere discreet. I don’t want this to end up in the newspaper before we have a chance to figure out a story for the public and make sure the ministry can’t muck it up.”
Blaise made a noise of assent and stated, “That can easily be arranged.” It might take time, but she’d trust them soon enough. He knew that neither he nor Theo ever intended to mistreat their spouse, not after their childhood experiences.